


What We Did Yesterday

by toyhto



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23541865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: Geralt can't remember what happened last night.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 144
Kudos: 858





	What We Did Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two idiots.
> 
> Say hi to me on [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)!

Something was wrong. Geralt knew it the second he woke up. He didn’t yet know what it was, but he was certain it had something to do with Jaskier. He _knew_ Jaskier. Also, Jaskier was pacing around in the middle of their inn room, looking at everything else but not Geralt.  
  
“Oh, you’ve woken up,” Jaskier said, when Geralt sat up on the bed. “Great. Just great. So, what’re we… _Geralt?_ Why’re you looking at me like that?”  
  
Geralt blinked. He was quite sure he was looking at Jaskier like he always did: with mild concern for what kind of trouble Jaskier would come up with next.  
  
“Geralt?” Jaskier asked in a quiet voice and stepped closer to him cautiously like approaching a dangerous animal, only Jaskier never actually approached anything dangerous that cautiously. And if Geralt had got to decide, Jaskier wouldn’t have approached anything dangerous at all, ever. Jaskier didn’t even know how to use a sword. Geralt had made him try once, and he had almost cut off his toes.  
  
And now that Geralt was thinking about Jaskier and dangers, he couldn’t help but notice that Jaskier didn’t look well. He wasn’t looking Geralt in the eyes, which was odd, because normally he stared at Geralt all the time.  
  
“Jaskier?” Geralt asked. “Is something wrong? Are you sick? Did you catch something? A cold? Do you need me to get a healer or something? Or a mage?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, taking a sharp breath, “absolutely not. Geralt, don’t you remember?”  
  
Geralt blinked. “Remember what?”  
  
Jaskier cleared his throat. He looked a little pale. “What we did yesterday.”  
  
“Of course I –,” Geralt said and then thought about it. He did remember arriving to the town early in the early evening. They had been tracking down a griffin for three days – well, he had been doing the work, of course, and keeping Jaskier in the safe distance, while Jaskier had been singing very inappropriate songs to Roach. And in the yesterday morning, Geralt had finally killed the griffin and they had ridden back to the town. They had booked a room in the local inn. After taking turns in the bath and eating more than they should have, Jaskier had performed a few songs in the tavern, kissed a girl, got ditched by a girl, tried to get Geralt to dance with him, and finally bought Geralt a few tankards of ale.  
  
But what Geralt didn’t remember was what had happened later in the evening. Somehow they had got back to their room, of course, but he didn’t have a memory of it.  
  
 _Fuck._ That was what the headache was about, then.  
  
“No,” he said, “I don’t remember. Did someone charm me?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said slowly.  
  
“It’s the alcohol, then.”  
  
“Yeah. Probably. Geralt, I –“  
  
“What did you do?”  
  
“I was going to tell you that. I –“  
  
“Did you sleep with someone’s wife? Is it bad? Should we leave the town? Should we –“  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, clearing his throat. “I need to tell you something.”  
  
“Don’t ask me to kill anyone,” Geralt said and glanced around in the room. His clothes were laying on a floor in a messy pile, but his swords were safely at his hand’s reach. Good. He might have consumed some alcohol last night, but he clearly hadn’t lost his senses altogether.  
  
He bit his lip and turned to look at Jaskier, who was sweating now. It wasn’t even that hot in the room. Maybe Jaskier had fever.  
  
“I don’t like killing people,” Geralt said as gently as he could.  
  
“I don’t need you to kill anyone,” Jaskier said. He sounded like he had trouble breathing. “Except perhaps me.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Listen,” Jaskier said, staring at Geralt with his eyes wide. “We got married.”  
  
Geralt blinked. Jaskier didn’t usually get married with women he flirted with, but Geralt had always suspected that would happen sooner or later. He just wished he didn’t have to kill anyone after all. Maybe they could handle this the usual way and escape in the dark hours of the night.  
  
“You don’t look angry,” Jaskier said very slowly. “Did you get your memory back?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said. “Who’s your bride?”  
  
Jaskier blinked. He looked like he was in a physical pain now. “Geralt, we got married. _We_ got married.”  
  
“Who?” Geralt asked. He was getting a little impatient now. And frankly, it was a bit uncharacteristic of Jaskier to be shy about whom he had married.  
  
“ _We_ ,” Jaskier said, staring at Geralt pointedly, as if Geralt ought to have already known. “We, Geralt. You and me.”  
  
“You and –“  
  
“Me and you. I mean, _you_.” Now Jaskier was pointing his finger at Geralt. “We got married yesterday.”  
  
“ _What?_ ”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You and me?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said and took a sharp breath. “Oh, god, I can’t breathe. I need to sit down. Do you mind if I –“  
  
Geralt made room for him on the bed. It was Jaskier’s bed as well, after all. They often shared one when they were staying in an inn. It was much cheaper that way, and much less cold. Now Jaskier sat down on the mattress next to him, leaned his palms on his knees and breathed in and out in a shaky rhythm.  
  
“We got married,” Geralt said, watching his swords safely in their sheath.  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said in a small voice. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.” Then Geralt thought about that again. “Actually, I’m pretty sure it _was_ your fault.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“But I don’t understand how you got me to come along. I’m pretty heavy.”  
  
“I didn’t drag you,” Jaskier said, “you walked with your own feet. A little unsteadily but very purposefully.”  
  
“But,” Geralt took a deep breath, “ _why?_ ”  
  
“I’m not sure.”  
  
“Surely you have some kind of an idea.”  
  
“Maybe,” Jaskier said and rubbed his face with both hands. “Okay, we were celebrating for getting out of the woods, you and me, and we had been drinking a lot. But not enough to accidentally get married, I swear, only that was exactly what happened in the end. I thought you wouldn’t get drunk so easily, because you’re, like, big. There’s so much of you.”  
  
Geralt nodded. That much was true.  
  
“But then you got very drunk very quickly anyway, and I couldn’t stop you from drinking more, because when I tried to stand in between you and the barmaid, you just kind of lifted me up and put me somewhere else. And then these girls came to talk to us, and I was kind of jealous of you, I don’t have a goddamn clue why, but you were laughing at them and it got to my nerves. I told them that we’re married. I thought it’d make them leave us alone, but they didn’t believe me. And you didn’t believe me. And then you said we couldn’t get married. And I said we could. And you said we couldn’t. And I said that we definitely could. And then I kind of climbed onto the table and asked if there was anyone in the tavern who had the legal authority to wed us. And there happened to be someone. So, I was very delighted that I had won, and then we got married.” Jaskier was quiet for a few seconds. He didn’t sound delighted anymore. It was kind of sad that he had been married to Geralt less than a day and he already looked like he was regretting it. “Don’t you remember anything?”  
  
“I kind of remember that you were very close to me,” Geralt said, “in the tavern. You were standing very close to me.”  
  
“Yeah. You were drunk so you kept leaning on me.”  
  
“I never lean on anyone.”  
  
“Well, this time you did. Not with your full weight, of course. You kept saying that I was tiny and that you had to be careful.”  
  
“Sounds about right,” Geralt said. “Okay, then what happened?”  
  
“What do you mean, what happened?”  
  
“After we got married. What happened? How did we get to our room? And what…” He blinked. “Why are my clothes on the floor like that?”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, turning to look at him straight in the eyes, “I swear to you, nothing happened. Besides us getting married, of course. We stayed in the tavern for a while, but I was tired and you were kind of looking like you might fall asleep on your feet, so we decided to go to sleep. You had some trouble undressing so you just left your clothes on the floor. You were very careful about your swords, though.”  
  
“Naturally.”  
  
“I didn’t touch you,” Jaskier said, his eyes fixed on Geralt, “I swear. Okay, I touched you a little. I touched your arm a little. They look so big and I’ve always wondered… I just wanted to try. And you didn’t seem to mind. I didn’t know you’d lose your memory.”  
  
“I don’t mind you touching my arm,” Geralt said and checked that his arm was in one piece. It was. Also, he doubted Jaskier could do him any actual harm even if he had a saw. Or actually, he’d probably harm himself and not Geralt. “So, we just slept?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“After we got married.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said, sounding very unhappy.  
  
“Alright,” Geralt said and stood up. His body was clearly doing its best to get rid of the late symptoms of intoxication. He walked to the pile of clothes, found his underpants and tugged them on. “I’m going to fix this.”  
  
“What? How?”  
  
“You’re clearly unhappy about this,” he said, looking for his shirt. “So, I’m going to fix everything. But can you wait until we’ve eaten breakfast? Because I’m a little hungry.”  
  
“I can wait,” Jaskier said, watching him with something odd in his eyes.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Geralt was going to fix everything after breakfast. He didn’t know how but he was going to find out. But when they were eating breakfast, someone recognised Jaskier from the last time they had been in this town. Jaskier swore that it wasn’t him who was responsible for teaching all the young girls songs so filthy they couldn’t now find proper husbands because of their vocabulary, but the good people didn’t believe him. And to be perfectly fair, it _had_ been Jaskier. But Geralt didn’t say that. What he said instead was: “You’re bothering my husband.”  
  
The whole inn went quiet.  
  
“Excuse me?” said the man who had just a few seconds ago promised to put Jaskier in the stocks.  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. “He’s my husband. Let him be.”  
  
The man stared at Geralt and then at Jaskier, and then at Geralt’s swords, and then at Geralt again. “He’s your…”  
  
“It’s true,” Jaskier said. “We’re married. Geralt, darling, I think we should leave.”  
  
Geralt blinked. No one had called him _darling_ in a long time, possibly never.  
  
“We’re leaving the town,” Jaskier said to the man who had accused him of filthy songs, “so you don’t have to worry about your daughters learning anything more from me. Come on, Geralt.”  
  
“He’s my husband,” Geralt told the man, just in case that was still unclear. Then he followed Jaskier to the room and watched as Jaskier began packing his things. He didn’t exactly want to leave the town, not now when they finally had a roof over their heads and a nice big bed. And it looked like it was going to rain later.  
  
Also, there was something he had meant to take care of after the breakfast. He just couldn’t remember…  
  
Oh. The marriage. Jaskier didn’t want to be married to him. That was it.  
  
“We should leave,” Jaskier said, “quickly. I also taught their daughters quite a bit of other things. I’d like to be on the road when they realise that was me, as well.”  
  
“Okay,” Geralt said, because Jaskier seemed determined about that. They could take care of the marriage in the next village.  
  
  
**  
  
  
In the next village, it turned out that the people didn’t like witchers. The innkeeper told Jaskier he could have a room but Geralt should sleep in the stables, which wasn’t too bad a deal, really. And it wasn’t like it was the first time. He’d be happy to bunk with Roach. But Jaskier sighed in a very unhappy tone and stared at the innkeeper straight in the eyes.  
  
“You know who I am?”  
  
“Yeah,” the innkeeper said, “you’re the bard.”  
  
“I’m the best bard on the continent,” Jaskier said and kicked Geralt in the leg when he snorted. “And I thought I might sing a few songs here in your place tonight. Just to cheer the good folks up a little bit. But that’s definitely not going to happen if you treat my man like that.”  
  
“Your man?” the innkeeper asked, looking at Geralt. Geralt shrugged. He supposed Jaskier meant him, or else his bard had forgot to tell him something.  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said, leaning over the counter. “We’re married. So, give us your best room and I’m going to make everyone in your inn weep tonight.”  
  
“I’d rather you’d make them laugh,” the innkeeper said but gave them the key.  
  
“I’m going to make them weep in a good way,” Jaskier said and took the key. “Come on, Geralt. We’re going to go to our room.”  
  
Geralt followed him upstairs. The room was the last one in the corridor, with a large bed that looked quite comfortable, a heath, and its own bathing room. It was nice, probably nicer than sleeping in Roach’s stall. He locked the door and then watched Jaskier walking around in the room and leaving his stuff everywhere.  
  
“You were nice about that.”  
  
“I hate it when people are assholes,” Jaskier said, not looking at him. “About you, I mean. It’s just… I just want to punch them in the face.”  
  
“Please, don’t do that. I’d have to save you.”  
  
“I can fight,” Jaskier said, “I think. It looks easy when you do it.”  
  
“I’m a mutant with a long training and a hundred years’ of experience,” Geralt said. “You told him we’re married, though.”  
  
“Yeah. It seemed simpler that way.” Jaskier glanced at him. “Sorry.”  
  
He shook his head. “No, I don’t mind. It’s true, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said slowly. “Yeah, but…”  
  
“I’m going to be the first one to take the bath,” Geralt said and started taking off his clothes.  
  
  
**  
  
  
They stayed in the village for two days. Jaskier sang a few songs about Geralt to the audience who laughed first and then cried a little, and the innkeeper offered Geralt a tankard of ale and apologised through gritted teeth. Geralt thought about what had happened the last time he had been drinking ale, and then he ordered another tankard. But he didn’t get so drunk this time. After Jaskier had stopped singing, he kept the bard close at his side and told every woman who tried to approach them that they were married. That seemed to do the trick quite efficiently. This marriage thing was really helping him with keeping Jaskier out of trouble.  
  
If Geralt hadn’t gotten a contract to kill a vampire nearby, they might have stayed for longer. The bed in their room was very nice. It didn’t even creak when Geralt rolled onto his side in the middle of the night and watched Jaskier’s left shoulder falling and rising with his breathing. It was nice to have someone in the bed with him, someone he wasn’t paying to stay and whom he knew. Once or twice he wondered vaguely if this was how it was for other people, for people who were – well, married.  
  
But he had a vampire to kill, so he left the village and Jaskier came with him, even though he told the idiot multiple times that it would be safer for him to wait in the village. But Jaskier argued that Geralt couldn’t know where exactly he would find the vampire, and Jaskier didn’t want to be left alone for days or _weeks_ , and Geralt didn’t really _want_ to leave Jaskier alone for weeks, so finally he agreed to let Jaskier follow him. But he did it in a grudging tone so that Jaskier wouldn’t think he had won. Jaskier patted him on the shoulder and told him he was an idiot, and he told Jaskier that _Jaskier_ was an idiot, and that conversation took a surprisingly long time.  
  
The vampire, it turned out, was a bit tired of life and only managed to bite Geralt once before he finally killed it. He had left Jaskier waiting in the safe distance, and when he walked back, pressing his fingers against his neck to stop the bleeding, Jaskier ran to him and pushed his hands away and then swore very loudly when the blood started running down on Geralt’s neck.  
  
“Are you going to die?” Jaskier asked, holding Geralt’s face in between his hands. He sounded oddly distraught.  
  
“Of course not,” Geralt said. “The wound is one and a half inches too much on the left. The vampire didn’t aim properly.”  
  
“You should find a safer job,” Jaskier said, “my heart can’t take this. I may have a heart condition, Geralt. Are you going to sit down so that I can clean your wound?”  
  
“It isn’t necessary.”  
  
“Sit the fuck down,” Jaskier said but nicely, and Geralt’s knees weren’t exactly steady anyway. He sat down on the ground and let Jaskier’s clean his wound and wrap it. Jaskier’s hands were warm and he smelled of worry and stress and he kept muttering something under his breath, something that sounded like _the worst honeymoon ever._  
  
  
**  
  
  
It took almost a day for Geralt’s neck to properly heal after the vampire had bitten him. He wouldn’t have minded if Jaskier hadn’t been fussing over him. He told Jaskier that he was perfectly fine, it wasn’t like this was the first time he had been bitten by a vampire, and he was very good at dealing with pain. But it turned out that he shouldn’t have mentioned pain, since after that Jaskier asked him every five minutes if it was getting any better. It was terribly annoying and kind of sweet.  
  
“It doesn’t hurt more than a tiny stab wound,” Geralt said, after Jaskier asked for the tenth time. “I can barely feel it now.”  
  
“A stab wound?” Jaskier asked, his face going white.  
  
Geralt stopped Roach and dismounted. _Bloody hell_. Jaskier was so _sensitive._ “Calm down. I’ve been stabbed like a hundred times.”  
  
Jaskier’s eyes widened. “A hundred times?”  
  
“Listen,” Geralt said and put his hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, just in case Jaskier was planning to faint on him. But having his hand on Jaskier’s shoulder felt surprisingly nice. Jaskier was breathing too fast, which was kind bad, but also his shoulder was falling and rising under Geralt’s touch. Geralt let go of Roach’s reins and put his other hand on Jaskier’s shoulders as well.  
  
Jaskier stared at him. “Yeah?”  
  
Oh. He had been planning to say something. He squeezed Jaskier’s shoulders lightly. “You don’t need to worry about me. This is my job. You know that.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said slowly, wriggling a little. Geralt squeezed his shoulders again and he calmed down. “I _know._ It’s just… It’s just scary sometimes.”  
  
“You didn’t seem concerned before,” Geralt said, frowning. “Is it because we’re married now? Are you afraid of becoming a widower? Because you needn’t be. I’d leave you Roach, of course.”  
  
Jaskier opened his mouth and then closed it. Then he raised his hand and patted Geralt on the arm. “I’ve always been concerned about you. I’ve just been hiding it better before.”  
  
“Hiding it?”  
  
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Jaskier said, his eyes fixed on Geralt’s throat now. “Because I don’t want you to turn into a vampire or anything. It’d be very inconvenient for me to be married to a vampire.”  
  
“I’m not going to turn into a vampire.”  
  
“Great,” Jaskier said, not looking convinced. “Maybe we should keep on walking, then.”  
  
“You’re riding Roach from now on. You look pale.”  
  
Jaskier snorted. “I don’t look _pale_. My complexion is beautifully tanned because of my long travels in your company.”  
  
Geralt pushed Jaskier’s hair away from his face. It was sticky under his touch. They both probably needed a bath. “You’re white as a sheep. You need to stop worrying about me, Jaskier.”  
  
“It’s _white as a sheet,_ ” Jaskier muttered, “Geralt, the saying goes _white as a sheet._ ” But he let Geralt lift him up on Roach and only rolled his eyes when Geralt patted his thigh and then started walking Roach down the road.  
  
After a while, Geralt caught him trying to rearrange his hair, which was absurd, because there was no one around to look at it anyway. And there was no way he was trying to be pretty for _Geralt_ , of course not. Geralt had already seen him in all possible states of clothing and distress. They were _married_ , for fuck’s sake.  
  
  
**  
  
  
They stayed in a small clearing next to a river for the night. It was a nice evening in the late summer, not terribly cold even when the sun set down. Jaskier was shivering a little at first, but he calmed down when Geralt put their bedrolls side by side on the ground and pulled him closer under the blankets. There was an owl somewhere, and the wind was moving gently through the tree branches, and Jaskier was laying on his side, facing away from Geralt but close enough that he could share Geralt’s warmth. Probably. Geralt didn’t want him to freeze to death overnight, and he _had_ been a little pale today.  
  
“Jaskier?” he asked after they had been laying there silently for a while. “Are you cold?”  
  
“Only a little,” Jaskier said. He didn’t sound very sleepy.  
  
“I could…” Geralt said and cleared his throat. It was only sensible. And they _were_ already married. “Do you mind if I…” And then he shifted closer to Jaskier and wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s waist. It was nice. It was almost like he was holding Jaskier in his arms. Jaskier smelled of sweat and dirt and a horse and a little bit of that stuff he called _lotion_ that he put on his face sometimes. Geralt could feel him breathing under his hand, and then he realised Jaskier wasn’t saying anything. “Jaskier?”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said in a thin voice, like he was holding his breath, “what is this? Are you cold? Or do you think that we’re married or something?”  
  
Geralt thought about that.  
  
“Because we are,” Jaskier said firmly, “we _are_ married, and it’s alright, this is alright, you can hold me if you want to.”  
  
“I thought you were cold.”  
  
“I _was_ ,” Jaskier said, “a little bit, so… yeah. Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
“Just… there are other ways to warm me up. Like, with a blanket. I don’t want you to feel like you have to –“  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
“Because if you’d rather not touch me –“  
  
“I don’t mind touching you,” Geralt said and wriggled a bit closer to him. “It’s almost midnight. Aren’t you tired of talking?”  
  
Jaskier was silent for a moment. “No.”  
  
“Well, maybe you should sleep anyway. You’re just a human.”  
  
“Stop calling me a human.”  
  
“You’re going to be cranky tomorrow if you don’t sleep.”  
  
Jaskier sighed. Geralt closed his eyes. Maybe they would stay like this the whole night. It wouldn’t be too bad.  
  
“Geralt?”  
  
“Jaskier?”  
  
“I like it,” Jaskier said, “you holding me. I like it.”  
  
“Good,” Geralt said. A moment later, Jaskier fell asleep.  
  
In the morning, Jaskier was a bit quieter than usually. Geralt wasn’t exactly sure why that made him restless and not happy. But Jaskier told him multiple times that everything was fine and that Geralt could stop asking him if he was fine. They washed themselves in the river and then sat naked on the rocks at the riverside for a moment to let the sun dry them. Jaskier threw pebbles to the river and watched the water with narrowed eyes, and Geralt realised that he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out what. It was too quiet.  
  
“The weather’s nice,” he said finally.  
  
Jaskier turned to look at him and then smiled. “The weather’s nice?”  
  
“Yeah,” he said, “it _is._ The sun is… and the wind is… and the temperature is… alright.”  
  
“Fuck,” Jaskier said, which wasn’t what Geralt had expected of him, but it was nice that he was talking. “We’re going to be alright, Geralt.”  
  
“Of course we are.”  
  
“Yeah, but…” Jaskier said, then shrugged and started pulling on his clothes. Geralt watched him and wondered what he had been meaning to say.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Geralt took care of a few drowners in a village next to a swamp. It was a gloomy place, but they stayed for a night anyway. They had a small room in the local inn, and in the bathing room, there was a tub big enough to have them both at the same time. There really was no reason to take turns, so Geralt suggested they’d bath together. Then he started taking off his armour. God, he hated drowners. He hated pretty much everything that tried to kill him but drowners were so… predictable but stubborn, boring but annoying, like sleeping in the rain and getting soaked.  
  
He climbed to the bathtub and sat down, thinking of drowners. Then he realised Jaskier had only taken his tunic off and was staring at him, his hands rested on his hips and his mouth slightly open.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It doesn’t look that big now that you’re in there,” Jaskier said and blinked, “the bathtub, I mean.”  
  
“It’s big enough. Just get in here.”  
  
“I’m going to poke your knees with mine.”  
  
“Scary,” Geralt said and took a deep breath. The water was warm and smelled of herbs and he hadn’t realised he had a sore spot on his back. An old injury, probably. “You can wait, if you like.”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, still looking deeply suspicious, “no, I don’t. I wouldn’t like that.”  
  
“Great,” Geralt said. “Do you think you could wash my hair? I think I have something dried in it. Mud, probably. Or blood. Or drowner intestines.”  
  
Jaskier stared at him for a few seconds. “Yeah, alright. So, I’ll just…” And then he started fumbling with his trousers. Geralt watched him.  
  
It was kind of odd to enjoy having company. He was pretty sure he hadn’t expected that. But Jaskier had followed him around for pretty much twenty years now and he had kind of gotten used to the bard, and besides, they were married. And he didn’t exactly mind having someone to talk to or to share a bed with. It _was_ terrible that he had to take care of Jaskier not getting killed, but luckily, he was very good at dealing with monsters. And quite good at dealing with Jaskier, or so he liked to think.  
  
“Geralt? You’re kind of staring at me.”  
  
Geralt blinked. Jaskier had gotten rid of his trousers and his undergarment and was now just standing there, naked.  
  
“I’m taking off my clothes and you’re staring at me,” Jaskier said.  
  
“You’re already naked,” Geralt said. “Get into the bath before you freeze.”  
  
“I didn’t mean that,” Jaskier said but followed the instructions anyway. Geralt bit his lip. He _was_ good at dealing with Jaskier, wasn’t he? He tried not to smile as Jaskier sat down in the bathtub, facing him. Their knees poked together but then Jaskier settled his feet in between Geralt’s sprawled thighs. There was plenty of room for both of them like this.  
  
“Did you realise,” Jaskier said slowly, “that I haven’t made new songs for a while? About you, I mean?”  
  
Geralt nodded. He hadn’t realised that, actually, but he didn’t pay much attention to Jaskier’s songs anyway. “I haven’t killed anything interesting lately.”  
  
“It’s not that,” Jaskier said, “I think. But what I meant is that I’ve just been following you around.”  
  
“Yeah,” Geralt said. It would be nice to take a nap like this, sitting in the warm bath with Jaskier’s leg brushing lightly against the inside of his thigh. But of course, if he fell asleep, Jaskier would have to keep him from drowning, and he was definitely too big for Jaskier.  
  
“I’m just following you around because I like your company,” Jaskier said.  
  
Geralt nodded. He knew that. What he didn’t know was _why_ Jaskier liked his company, but then again, life was full of things that didn’t make sense.  
  
“Because we’re friends,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Yeah,” Geralt said. “So, do you need me to wash your hair, or are you alright?”  
  
“But it’s not like I’m following anyone else around the continent like this,” Jaskier said. “You’re probably my best friend.”  
  
“You’re my only friend,” Geralt said. “Listen, I think I’m finally getting old. My back hurts and I don’t remember any of the drowners hitting me there.”  
  
Jaskier stared at him for a few seconds. “You aren’t getting old.”  
  
“I could be.”  
  
“No, you aren’t. So, I’m your best friend.”  
  
“Isn’t it obvious? Have I spoken to anyone else in these past three months?”  
  
“Not really,” Jaskier said. “You spoke to the vampire, though. You said, _get the fuck off my throat._ ”  
  
Geralt frowned. “You weren’t supposed to be in the hearing distance.”  
  
Jaskier started smiling. It was much better than the frowning, and Geralt poked him at the knee for it. Nicely, of course. “I _wasn’t_. I just guessed. _Damn,_ you’re predictable. So, did you want me to wash your hair?”  
  
“Yeah,” Geralt said and closed his eyes. “Please.”  
  
Later, they had dinner in the tavern. There weren’t many people around but two young women finishing their meal were eyeing them, probably because they had washed their hair. When the women came to talk to them, Geralt tried to focus on his potatoes. Neither one of them had slept with anyone in a long time. Maybe Jaskier wanted to entertain himself with the girls. Geralt didn’t exactly like the idea but then again, he never liked being left behind when Jaskier slept with someone else. He could go sulk with Roach. Roach didn’t like Jaskier’s women, either.  
  
But this time, Jaskier only talked with the women for a few minutes, then sighed and patted Geralt on the arm. “Listen, ladies,” Jaskier said, “I’d very much like to continue this conversation, but we’re a bit tired today, my husband and I, we’ve been on the road for days, and Geralt killed a few drowners today, and yeah, I guess we just aren’t fit for conversation right now.”  
  
“Husband?” said one of the ladies, when the other said, “drowners?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said. He had let his hand to rest on Geralt’s. It was almost like he was holding Geralt’s hand, only Geralt was still holding the fork. “I guess we’re going to have to finish the dinner and go back upstairs, we’re so tired. Right, Geralt?”  
  
Geralt blinked at him. “Don’t you want to –“  
  
“Yes, I want to get upstairs with you,” Jaskier said, squeezing his hand, “darling, as soon as possible. So, maybe you could get back to your eating.”  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. “Alright.”  
  
“Have a good day,” Jaskier said to the women, who didn’t look terribly disappointed. But Geralt was confused. He finished his meal because Jaskier had asked him to, and then he followed Jaskier upstairs, and then he stood there, watching as Jaskier sat down on the edge of the bed and started taking off his clothes.  
  
“They might’ve wanted to sleep with you.”  
  
“Yeah, I kind of noticed,” Jaskier said, unlacing his tunic. “I’m not going to send you off to Roach so that I can have sex with someone.”  
  
“You’ve done it before.”  
  
Jaskier shook his head. “I know. It’s just… we just had a bath together.”  
  
“Yeah,” Geralt said. “Your hair is clean. The girls would’ve liked it.”  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath and then looked him in the eyes. “So, what do _you_ think of my clean hair?”  
  
“I think it looks fine,” Geralt said.  
  
“So, tell me,” Jaskier said, crossing his legs. He was wearing only his undergarment now. “It’s not cold in here, but are you going to hold me anyway, when we sleep? If I ask you to?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“And maybe _you_ would’ve wanted to sleep one of those women, or both?”  
  
Geralt snorted. “Of course not.”  
  
“Alright,” Jaskier said. He was smiling a little, but he still looked like he was thinking about something he didn’t want to say aloud. Geralt just wished it wasn’t trouble. “Can we just go to bed and sleep? I’m very tired after watching you kill those drowners.”  
  
“You were so far away you barely saw anything,” Geralt said but started undressing.  
  
“I saw you waving your sword around. It looked very tiring.”  
  
“Maybe you should exercise more.”  
  
“Maybe you should take a vacation,” Jaskier said and made room for him on the bed.  
  
  
**  
  
  
A few weeks later, they were in Vizima, because Jaskier wanted to try his new songs with bigger audiences. Geralt had been asked to deal with ghosts in an attic of the house of one of the richest men in the town. It had turned out that the ghosts were actually rats, but he had got paid anyway. And he definitely preferred rats, because they could be killed the usual way.  
  
The only problem was that killing the rats hadn’t taken long. Now he had free time in his hands, and he didn’t know what to do with it, so he sat in the corner of the tavern where Jaskier was singing tonight. He didn’t much care for music, but he supposed Jaskier’s music wasn’t worse than the rest of it. And people seemed to like Jaskier. They clapped their hands and some of them even sang along, and Geralt hid his smile in his tankard of ale. Jaskier looked so happy that the crowd liked him, like a dog when someone scratched him behind the ear.  
  
When Jaskier had finished singing, he talked to people for a moment and then made his way to the corner, where Geralt was waiting for him. “What did you think?”  
  
“People like your songs,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier rolled his eyes and sat down, and then a young man in a fancy purple shirt greeted him. He glanced at Geralt and then turned to the man, who wanted to tell him that his performance had been great, and that _he_ was great, and if he wanted, he would be very welcome to come to spend the evening with the man and his friends. There was a party down the street.  
  
“Thank you,” Jaskier said, “but I’m with my husband, so I think we’re just going to stay here for a while and then go to sleep.”  
  
“Your husband?” said the man. He sounded confused.  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said, turning to Geralt. “This is –“  
  
“But he’s a witcher.”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said. His tone was still polite but there was something stretched in it. Geralt wanted to grab his hand and tell him that it was alright, he didn’t have to get offended for Geralt every time. Geralt was used to it. And if Jaskier wanted, he could go to the party with the man. Geralt would wait.  
  
“But -,” said the man in the purple shirt.  
  
“We’re married,” Jaskier said very pointedly. “So, if you think you’re going to say something nasty, think again.”  
  
“Sorry,” the man said and backed away. “I just wanted to tell you I liked your songs. Have a good evening, sir.”  
  
“Fuck,” Jaskier said under his breath, looking at Geralt over the table. “I hate people.”  
  
“No, you don’t,” Geralt said. There was something lingering in his mind that he couldn’t quite grasp, something he had been supposed to do but he had forgotten. It had something to do with Jaskier. “ _People_ hate _me_. You just haven’t gotten used to it yet.”  
  
“I’m never going to get used to it.”  
  
“Wait until you’re a hundred years old,” Geralt said, wondering if Jaskier had wanted to spend the night with the man in the purple shirt. He was kind of glad that Jaskier was still here with him, of course, but these days, he seemed to spoil Jaskier’s every opportunity to sleep with someone else. He didn’t want Jaskier to realise that and get angry at him.  
  
Then he realised what he had forgotten.  
  
“We’re still married.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said, looking at him a bit oddly.  
  
“I mean, we were supposed to fix that, weren’t we?”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “What?”  
  
“You didn’t mean it,” Geralt said. “You were drunk and I was drunk and then we got married, which is fine, but now everyone thinks you don’t want to sleep with them because you keep telling them I’m your husband.”  
  
Jaskier cleared his throat. “Geralt, that’s not exactly –“  
  
“We should talk to someone,” Geralt said. “About our marriage.”  
  
“ _What?_ Geralt, I think we’re doing great. Well, I suppose there’re some issues we could talk about, but all in all, I think we’re doing very well. I’ve been very…”  
  
“But you aren’t getting any sex.”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said very slowly, his eyes wide and fixed on Geralt’s, “but I thought that was… things have been… we’ve only been married for, like, a month or something. Or thirty-three days and twenty-one hours.”  
  
“But that’s a long time to go without sex,” Geralt said, embracing himself, “for you. We should break up.”  
  
Jaskier looked oddly shocked at that. “ _What?_ Why would we –“  
  
“You didn’t mean it in the first place,” Geralt said, “and now it’s holding you back. Me, I mean. I’m holding you back. Or our marriage is. So, we should undo it.”  
  
Jaskier looked almost terrified. Maybe he was distressed about the thought of leaving Geralt alone. But he wouldn’t. Geralt was sure of that. Everything would go back to normal. They would still be friends travelling across the continent, slaying monsters and sharing a bed. It just would be easier for Jaskier to get someone to sleep with him when he wouldn’t be a married man.  
  
“If you’re sure,” Jaskier said, for a while, “but I really don’t think that’s necessary. Geralt, I –“  
  
“I think it’s necessary,” Geralt said. “I never meant to be on your way.”  
  
“You’re not on my way. Geralt –“  
  
“Can we go to sleep?” he asked. He had an odd feeling in his chest, and he supposed it might be sadness. He didn’t like it at all. “I’m a bit tired. I killed many rats today.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Jaskier said, blinking at him. “Okay. Let’s go to sleep. But we’re going to talk about this tomorrow.”  
  
The bed in their inn room was narrower than what they had gotten used to. But it was alright. Geralt didn’t even have to pull Jaskier closer, because Jaskier settled himself as close to him as was possible and then tried to wriggle even closer. It was nice. He hid his face in Jaskier’s hair and stroked Jaskier’s bare stomach with his knuckles, and a few times he thought Jaskier was going to say something, but then Jaskier only sighed.  
  
Tomorrow, they would get a divorce.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“What do you mean, we aren’t married?” Jaskier asked. He sounded a lot like on that one unfortunate occasion when Geralt had said his singing was like a pie without filling.  
  
“I mean that you aren’t married,” the woman in the town’s office said with a bored tone. “There’s absolutely no record of the two of you getting married.”  
  
“But we got married,” Jaskier said, “thirty-four days and eleven hours ago. We were in a tavern, I don’t remember which one, and we were a bit drunk, but we asked if someone could marry us and there was someone there, someone who had the authority, and then we got married –“  
  
“I guess someone has pulled a prank on you, sir,” the woman said, her face clearly showing what she thought of pranks.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, turning to Geralt, “say something. We _are_ married.”  
  
“Yeah,” Geralt said, even though he didn’t actually _remember_ them getting married. But he had kind of gotten used to the idea.  
  
“I thought you came here asking for a divorce,” the woman said.  
  
“No,” Jaskier said and took a deep breath, “fuck, _yes_ , but first we have to be married, right? And we’ve been married for –“  
  
“Thirty-four days, sir. I heard you the first time.”  
  
“And eleven hours.”  
  
“I’m terribly sorry but I can’t help you,” the woman said, her voice hinting that she wasn’t terribly sorry.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, “how can we fix this?”  
  
“I don’t really know,” Geralt said. It was all happening so fast. Jaskier looked a little pale, so he stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s shoulder. “Maybe we should get back to the inn and think about this there.”  
  
“That’s a good idea, sir,” the woman said.  
  
“We’re married,” Jaskier said.  
  
“And good day to you, sir,” the woman said.  
  
Geralt took a firmer grip on Jaskier’s shoulders and walked him out of the office.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“I can’t believe it,” Jaskier said, staring at his own hands at the table. “I thought it was real.”  
  
“You couldn’t have known,” Geralt said.  
  
“I shouldn’t have gotten drunk before I married you,” Jaskier said. He seemed a little drunk now, even though he had only had two ales. “If I hadn’t been drunk, maybe I would’ve realised that guy was lying to us. Then we could’ve found someone else to wed us.”  
  
“Jaskier,” Geralt said slowly and then paused. He wasn’t sure what to do. Jaskier had been clearly upset the whole day, and Geralt had tried to support him the best he could, even though _he_ wasn’t upset. He was kind of relieved. In the morning, he had thought they would break up today. Surely this was better.  
  
He had suggested that they could leave Vizima. Someone had heard of a pack of nekkers lurking not far away. Maybe they could find a village in which people would pay Geralt to get rid of the damn things. But Jaskier hadn’t got excited about the nekkers, and they were still in Vizima, drinking in the inn.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, resting his chin on his hands and looking at Geralt. He looked tired. “What’re we going to do next?”  
  
“Maybe we should go to sleep. It’s getting late. And you’re…”  
  
Jaskier grimaced.  
  
“Drunk.”  
  
“I’m not drunk,” Jaskier said, still grimacing. “I’m just sad.”  
  
“I can tell the difference.”  
  
“No, you can’t,” Jaskier said and stood up. “Fine. We’ll go to sleep. Are we still going to share the room?”  
  
Geralt blinked. “Of course.”  
  
“Good,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Why wouldn’t we share the room?” Then Geralt thought about something. _Fuck._ “Or maybe you want me to stay away for the night. I understand it, Jaskier, you haven’t slept with anyone in a long time and turns out we were never married, so I get it if you –“  
  
“Don’t say that to me,” Jaskier cut in.  
  
“What? That you haven’t slept with anyone in a –“  
  
“That we were never married,” Jaskier said, staring at him.  
  
Geralt wasn’t sure what they were talking about. But if Jaskier wanted to room for himself, Geralt could give him that. “I can easily stay with Roach. Really, it’s no trouble.”  
  
“If you leave me now,” Jaskier said, “and go to Roach instead, I’ll never speak to you again.”  
  
Geralt opened his mouth and then closed it again. Maybe silence was the safest option. He ignored the innkeeper’s sympathetic looks and followed Jaskier upstairs, to their room. If Jaskier wasn’t feeling tired yet, they could do something for a while. Geralt could sharpen his swords and Jaskier could play his lute. That would be nice. But Jaskier was just standing there in the middle of the room, looking hurt, so Geralt sat down on the edge of the bed and started undressing. They could as well go to sleep.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said.  
  
Geralt took off his shirt. “Jaskier.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said again and then sighed. “Are you relieved? Because you look relieved. And to be perfectly honest, I’m a little offended.”  
  
Geralt started undoing the laces of his trousers. “Don’t be.”  
  
“But you _are_ relieved and, I mean, why wouldn’t you be? You didn’t even remember the next morning that we had got married.”  
  
“Well,” Geralt said slowly, “yeah.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m relieved.”  
  
“I knew it,” Jaskier said in a very small voice, just standing there while Geralt started taking off his socks.  
  
“I didn’t want to get a divorce,” he said.  
  
Jaskier stared at him. He put all his clothes on a pile next to the bed and then lay down on the mattress in his undergarment. Maybe Jaskier would get a hint and come to the bed with him. Then they could sleep. Or Jaskier could sleep and Geralt could hold him in his arms and listen to his breathing. Sometimes he sniffled in his sleep. And sometimes, in his sleep, he wriggled closer to Geralt and then sighed as if he was happy that Geralt was there.  
  
“You didn’t want to get a divorce,” Jaskier said now, took a deep breath and started taking off his clothes slowly, which was probably a good sign. Eventually, he’d have to get to the bed, to Geralt, and then they could sleep. Everything would go back to normal. Maybe Jaskier would even forget that they weren’t really married. “And why,” Jaskier said, “why didn’t you want to get a divorce, Geralt? I know you’re a man of principle, but that –“  
  
“I don’t care about that,” Geralt said, rolling onto his side. Jaskier was opening the buttons of his tunic. “I just didn’t want to… I was happy with how things were… are.”  
  
“Really?” Jaskier asked, not looking at Geralt while he was fumbling with his trousers.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You didn’t want things to change.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“But you keep asking me why I’m not sleeping with anyone,” Jaskier said, tugging his trousers to his ankles and then stepping out of them. “You keep bringing that up, Geralt.”  
  
“Well, you usually do. Sleep with people. Like, a lot. But you haven’t –“  
  
“We’ve been together,” Jaskier said in a sharp voice and then sighed. “I mean, I thought we were… married.”  
  
“Yeah,” Geralt said, “we were, but I want you to be happy.”  
  
Jaskier rubbed his forehead. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah. Of course. Come to bed, Jaskier.”  
  
Jaskier shook his head but climbed onto the bed anyway. He settled on the mattress next to Geralt, but he was still frowning, so it was probably for the best that Geralt didn’t take him into his arms right away. They would have the whole night, after all, and probably many nights after that, because they weren’t going to get a divorce.  
  
“You’re smiling.”  
  
Geralt blinked. “I’m not.”  
  
“You were,” Jaskier said, “you were looking at me and smiling. Geralt, since we’re in bed, I mean, since it turns out we aren’t married or anything but we’re still in bed together, can I tell you something crazy?”  
  
Geralt thought about that. Usually, it was a bad idea to let Jaskier tell him anything. But there was something odd in the way Jaskier was watching him. “Okay.”  
  
“I thought you wouldn’t want me to sleep with other people.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip. Maybe Jaskier wouldn’t want him to comment on that.  
  
“Geralt? Say something.”  
  
 _Fuck._ “Well, it’s not like I _want_ you to sleep with other people.”  
  
“But you told me to.”  
  
“No, I…” He cleared his throat. “I thought you wanted that.”  
  
“It hasn’t been a lot in my mind lately,” Jaskier said, “sleeping with other people. You know why?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“This is the crazy part,” Jaskier said. He sounded nervous and tired. “I kind of thought you’d might want to. Sleep with me, I mean.”  
  
Geralt stared at him. “Fuck.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said, “exactly.”  
  
“You thought I’d want to –“  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said and sat up on the bed, “and now I’m feeling even more stupid, which is funny, because I’ve been feeling incredibly stupid for the whole day. Well, actually, this past month that we’ve been married, I’ve felt pretty stupid once in a while, because I fucking _knew_ you didn’t mean anything by it, you know, for some reason you like to cling onto me when I sleep but that doesn’t mean you’d have feelings for me or anything. And I’ve known it, and I’ve felt so stupid, because I couldn’t help myself, I just kept hoping that maybe, just maybe you like me the way I like you, but – what’re you doing?”  
  
Geralt took a firm grip on Jaskier’s shoulders and pushed him back to the bed, right where he was laying on his back next to Geralt. Then he rolled onto his side and looked Jaskier in the eyes. He was still holding Jaskier down, just in case.  
  
“You want to sleep with me.”  
  
“Well,” Jaskier said and cleared his throat, “yeah.”  
  
“And you realise that I’m a man.”  
  
Jaskier nodded, his gaze going back and forth on Geralt’s face.  
  
“And a witcher.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said in a thin voice, “I’ve kind of noticed that, too. I _know_ you. Geralt –“  
  
“But you want to sleep with me anyway. Even though you know me.”  
  
Jaskier licked his lips, took a deep breath and then wriggled closer to Geralt on the mattress. “Geralt, you’re kind of brilliant. I’ve kept coming back to you for twenty years because I just can’t find anything in this world that’s even half as intriguing as you are.”  
  
“I’m not –“  
  
“Shut up. And then I realised I want to kiss you. Like, sometimes you were staring at me as if you couldn’t decide if I’m a disaster or actually a little bit charming, for example when I almost cut off my toes with your swords. And don’t snort like that, you have a big and heavy sword. I wasn’t expecting that. Anyway, there were moments when I just wanted to kiss you on the mouth, you know, press our mouths together and –“  
  
“I know what kissing is.”  
  
“Sorry,” Jaskier said, raised his hand and patted Geralt on the chest. Geralt glanced at Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier blinked and left his hand there, his fingers pressing lightly against Geralt’s skin. “I can’t feel your heartbeat.”  
  
“It’s very slow,” Geralt said, “you know that. You were saying that you want to kiss me.”  
  
Jaskier stared at him. “Yeah. But I want other things as well. If you’re willing. If you aren’t, then… well, I suppose at some point I might want to sleep with someone else. But not now. I’ve been… this has been a lot, you know, being married to you and sharing a bed with you and –“  
  
“We’ve shared a bed before.”  
  
“But you haven’t touched me.”  
  
Geralt swallowed and then placed his hand on Jaskier’s, keeping Jaskier’s fingers where they were pressed against his chest. Jaskier’s hand was shaking just a little. “You want me to touch your hand.”  
  
“I want you to touch pretty much my anything,” Jaskier said. “Whatever you want.”  
  
“Anything.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Like your…” Geralt frowned. “Your butt?”  
  
Jaskier looked a little surprised. “Yeah. My butt as well.”  
  
“Because I can do that,” Geralt said and shifted a little closer to Jaskier. He wasn’t certain if he had thought about touching Jaskier, but now that Jaskier had mentioned it, it made sense. He kept his eyes on Jaskier, and when he didn’t seem to mind, Geralt climbed onto him, leaning his knees and elbows against the mattress and looking down at him. “I didn’t think you’d want that. You never asked.”  
  
“I thought you’d say no,” Jaskier said, watching him. “Geralt, can I –“  
  
“Touch me? Yeah.” He tried not to shiver when Jaskier wrapped his arm around his back and touched him in between his shoulder blades. But it had been a long time since someone had looked at him like that. “You could’ve asked,” he said, “we were married.” Then he had to get back onto the mattress, because he wanted to touch Jaskier, too, and also didn’t want to fall onto Jaskier and crush him.  
  
“Just touch me now,” Jaskier said.  
  
Geralt took his face in between his hands and kissed him.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Sleeping with Jaskier was much more work than Geralt would have guessed. The trickiest thing was to keep Jaskier silent. He tried kissing, but it only worked for a minute or so, and then Jaskier started talking again. It wasn’t that Geralt didn’t like Jaskier’s voice, because he kind of did, these days, it was just that it was difficult to concentrate on two things at the same time. And Jaskier’s ramblings didn’t make much sense, so at the moment it really didn’t seem worth it to stop whatever he was doing to listen to Jaskier talking about how he had never realised Geralt’s hands were _so big._ Geralt knew what his hands were like. He didn’t need to hear about it.  
  
What he needed, instead, was to make Jaskier come as slowly as possible. It turned out that he had seriously underestimated the little impatient noises Jaskier would make in bed, and the way Jaskier’s face got flushed, and the surprising strength with which Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s shoulders when Geralt finally got a finger in Jaskier’s ass. He had asked at first, of course. Jaskier had told him he could touch Jaskier’s _pretty much anything,_ but he didn’t want to assume _pretty much anything_ included, well, pretty much anything. Apparently it did. He twisted his finger just a little and Jaskier stared at him with wide eyes as if he hadn’t had an idea Geralt’s finger in his ass could feel like that. Geralt told him to relax and he didn’t, but at least he wasn’t talking anymore. Geralt had to be careful about this. He needed Jaskier to like this, because then they could do this again tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that. He could learn all the ways that made Jaskier tremble and slowly unravel in his hands, and fuck, that’d be good.  
  
He had always laughed at people who said there was something more in life, something he hadn’t come across yet. He had been around for a hundred years and he had seen it all. But clearly he had been wrong, because this was it: Jaskier taking a sharp breath as he pushed another finger in, Jaskier squeezing his hand, Jaskier kissing him back with a restless sloppy mouth, Jaskier starting sentences and then dropping them half-way as if he couldn’t remember how to use words.  
  
And finally, finally he had his hand on Jaskier’s cock and his fingers in Jaskier’s ass and Jaskier was so close to coming Geralt could smell it on him. One of Jaskier’s hands was gripping Geralt’s hair and the other was trying to hold onto Geralt’s cock, and Geralt was quite happy with himself for making Jaskier into such a mess that he didn’t seem to be able to jerk Geralt off. He’d have time for it later. They’d have time. What Geralt wanted now was for Jaskier to look him in the eyes and come for him.  
  
He told that to Jaskier, and Jaskier did exactly what he had asked.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Jaskier said, his face buried against the crook of Geralt’s neck, “fuck, _fuck_. That was… I was… You were… I didn’t even jerk you off, Geralt.”  
  
“You did. It was your hand on my cock.”  
  
“Well,” Jaskier said, kissing him on the neck. “It was _your_ hand holding _my_ hand on your cock. I did a fucking bad job about it. I didn’t do anything.”  
  
“You were perfect,” Geralt said and pulled Jaskier closer. Jaskier was still breathless like he had just fought a griffin, and his hair was damp to touch. “We can do it again in the morning.”  
  
“I’m not sure I can do anything in the morning,” Jaskier said, “I feel like… I feel like you’ve completely ruined me.”  
  
“I’ll ruin you again in the morning,” Geralt said. It was a bit difficult to keep his eyes open.  
  
“You sound sleepy,” Jaskier asked, wriggling closer to him. “Are you going to fall asleep? Right after sex? Are you that kind of a man? Really? I thought you’d stay awake for a while, maybe have a conversation with me. I, personally, like to sing after I’ve come. I could sing something about you. Geralt?”  
  
“Shut up,” he said, closing his eyes.  
  
Jaskier laughed and then was quiet for a long time. Geralt could hear his heart slowly calming down. Somewhere outside, a jaybird was singing.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, when Geralt had almost fallen asleep.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I think we should get married.”


End file.
